Songs of a Distant Life
by Uberscribbler
Summary: The return or two souls from unimaginable journeys, bringing with them more questions and wonder than could be dreamed.
1. Roan

_**De Author**** Seez: **Another year, another genre invaded. The property of "He-Man and the Masters of the Universe" is the property of Mattel (or The Borg of Toymaking, depending on who you talk to). I'm borrowing and expanding on the characters/storyline for my own entertainment...and yours. There is no expectation or hope of material profit or compensation from this. I'm writing because this is all The Muse - who looks suspiciously like Sharon Stone in her prime - is providing right now. Plus this has been in my head for the last eight-plus years; I'll explain in future chapters. _

_Meanwhile, enjoy. Word of warning: some semi-mature issues will be dealt with here. Nothing explicit (I think), but who knows? __Oh, and this is going to seem...vague for a bit. Please bear with me. Things will make sense eventually. _

_Anyways, onwards!_

* * *

**He-Man and The Masters of the Universe:  
**_**Songs From A Distant Life**_

**(1/?): What the Guardsman Found...**

Roan Galatas, Senior Guardsmen of Eternos Castle, walked his assigned watch and wondered not for the first time how everything could seem so utterly calm within the palace when, in truth, utter chaos reigned.

First there were the idiot rumors swirling about concerning Prince Adam and Captain Teela, whose absence from Court had been noticed for the past three days had quickly been noticed and equally quickly remarked upon. This nonsense alternated between reports of both having taken ill with who-knows-what, and went downwards from there. The King and Queen both attended Court and matters of state with their usual calm and strength, which perversely merely fueled speculation as they refused to answer any inquiry concerning their son or his bodyguard. The current most frequent whispers were that the pair had either been felled by assassins, or they'd secretly married and been exiled by a rightly furious King.

Roan and the rest of the palace detachment knew better, although there was still a running pool as to how much longer the pair would continue their idiot dance and finally and really elope. Neither the King nor Man-at-Arms knew of it – or so all involved hoped – but there were few secrets in the barracks and they all knew the truth. Or at least thought they did. There was certitude enough they'd all sworn to keep the Prince and Captain's confidence.

There were no assassins, but there was the unsettling reality that both the Prince and Captain were indeed bed-ridden these past three days…and no-one could identify the cause. So far as anyone knew there was no kind of fever or illness involved, nor poisons or any other physical malady, and the Guard had been listening _very_ carefully. That left the possibility of magic, but there too everyone was at a loss. Orko, various minor sensitives who were consulted, even the Sorceress of Grayskull herself, all of them reportedly could detect nothing, which was unsettling enough as it left no clear explanation.

Adding to the mystery was the strange commotion of two nights ago. Roan had been asleep with the rest of his division when literally the entire palace shook to its foundations with an almighty crash of lightning. One that originated not in the cloudless night sky above, but apparently from the ground, in or at least near the wing that housed the palace infirmary, where (not coincidentially, Roan was sure) the Prince and Captain were both lying in observation. Nearly the whole of the palace guard had roused and raced towards the crashing noise, only to be stopped by Duncan himself who promptly ordered them all back to either their posts or to bed. The Queen, then the King himself appeared and reiterated their Man-at-Arms' order; granted the latter was looking pale and shaken, but the authority he spoke with was as absolute as ever. He'd even added a solemn vow that neither their son nor his bodyguard were in any endangered by whatever had happened.

Both the Royal couple and Duncan refused to explain either the cause or effect of this mysterious lightning, but the fact Orko was promptly summoned suggested magic was involved. The King and Queen had to that point taken turns – long ones – sitting at the unconscious pair's bedside. After this however they stood watch together, but did so now behind closed doors and issuing orders that absolutely no-one, even healer Himon himself, was to be admitted into the sickroom until they allowed.

Himon, being the ever-gentle bully he was, managed to make it past the guard set by Duncan and even into the pair's assigned room. Whatever he saw there had him immediately backpeddling in shock, a state utterly alien to the old healer's demeanor. He recovered himself quickly and reaffirmed Randor's orders, even offering to take up station himself. Duncan, while grateful for the support, wisely sent the elder on his way with promises he'd be called when needed.

Confusion piled upon confusion as the King emerged shortly after dawn and directed Adam and Teela be carried to their respective quarters. Though it went unremarked, it was clear the night had proved trying upon him; their King looked more rung out with stress and exhaustion than any other time in memory, and the Queen looked even worse. Yet after just a day's rest they both resumed the business of both court and country.

The final piece to this already-confusing puzzle was, oddly, the most disturbing. Roan had been on duty the previous night and seen Duncan escorted into the King's personal study. There was muffled sounds of shouting and thrown objects, which was alarming enough that Roan summoned the rest of the night watch and was prepared to break the study's door in.

They were stopped once again by the Queen, who appeared as if by magic just as they were charging forward. The scene in that hallway must have been positively comedic as he and his comrades were literally tumbling into and atop one another barely a handslength from Her Majesty. Without cracking so much as a light grin, she ordered the lot of them back to their posts, her solemn word given that neither her husband or "the other one" (as she referred to Duncan) were in the slightest danger. Her eyes flashed with dangerous light that struck all objections dead and sent them on a hasty retreat.

No word of this was said beyond the night watch themselves, and even then they kept their voices low. Bad enough that the Crown Prince was struck by parties unknown, but for his bodyguard – who was also the Captain of the Guard _and_ amongst the most formidable warriors on the planet – to be struck as well, _and_ have the whole thing become grist for the rumor mill was doubtless trying enough upon the Royal Couple. The Guardsmen were loathe one and all to add to the trial by adding their own speculation and whispers to it.

Thus it was coming to be dawn of the fourth day since the Prince and Captain fell silent that Roan was completing his assigned shift, his assigned route that night taking him past the Prince's chambers. The Captain was in the adjoining suite and both their doors were cracked open. This was perfectly normal, given Cringer liked to prowl the floors at night, and Teela was normally such a light sleeper anyone who dared intrude on her was sure for a rude surprise.

This didn't mean Roan and his fellows were purely decorative, nor were they pushovers here, and to a one they took their duties seriously. They loved their Prince and their Captain and would be damned before they let anything menace them, especially now that neither was in a position to defend themselves. Hence each of them walking their routes more softly, that much more carefully, and watching the shadows with a closer eye than usual.

As he passed the Prince's door, Roan took a moment to glance through the open threshold, only to frown in worry at the visible absence of Cringer. The poor cat had been nearly inconsolable when Adam was found unconscious in his bedroom, keeping his master in sight at all times and actually _growling_ with his hackles raised at any threats, seen or unseen. It was rather frightening, especially given the intelligence and power he gazed upon everything, and more than one courtier had been dissuaded from invading the Prince's privacy the last three days by it.

But now the cat was out of sight, which was atypical enough to prompt Roan to risk invading the same himself. If Cringer were simply sitting out of sight, he'd know quick enough and could bid them both a good night. Except there was no sign of the great cat as he advanced into the suite, which actually gave Roan a bit of worry, given just how protective that titanic kitten had been acting.

Roan debated whether or not to summon one of the Watch, but quickly decided against it. Better he make sure the Prince was still in his bed before sounding any alarms. For all he knew the cat was simply stalking some mice down the hall and nothing was truly amiss. Well, any _more_ amiss than everything already was, that is.

The door that separated the bedroom and privy from the main room was wide open, which at once relieved and worried Roan. He could make out a reclining form in the bed, the weak light of early morning casting long and obscuring shadows throughout the room and obscuring . Deciding he was merely borrowing trouble, Roan slowly backed away and turned back to the suite's door, comfortable he was worrying for nothing and really just needed a bit of kip.

He was thus completely surprised when a strong hand gripped his neck and _propelling_ him into the wall near the threshold. Roan was sure he felt a couple teeth loosen against the masonry, but had no time to ponder it further as that same hand grasped his collar and literally threw him clear across the room, his feet literally lifted off the ground as he went. Per his training Roan curled himself so he rolled rather than hit the opposite wall, both softening the impact and putting him in better position to confront this intruder.

He let his honed instincts take over then and attempted to activate both his wrist cannon and comm. Fast he was at this, and his reflexes were easily the best in the Guard, the attacker was quicker still. A blurr of a foot arched past him and connected with his right wrist, sending his aim from the horizontal to the vertical with such force his entire arm felt the blow. It was all Roan could do but watch this husky figure execute a near-perfect 'body-spin' move, brining up its other foot and hitting him square in the chest. Roan every bit as battle experienced as the rest of Guard, having even exchanged blows with the Beastman in close quarters, and he had _never_ felt the kind of punishment this attacker was meting out. He was sure he heard both armor and ribs crack from it, as well as the telltale sparking of his comm (which had been build into the collar of this vest) as it too suffered damage.

This was all coming so fast, Roan had no time to so much as raise an arm to block the vicious backhand that contacted his cheek and sent him sprawling once again. But no sooner had this registered than he was pulled up once again by a single hand and literally dragged back across the room, to be lifted and shoved onto the Prince's desk. It was a half-on/half-off position that twisted his spine in uncomfortable ways. Worse, a brawny forearm was pressing hard against throat and keeping him immobilized. He felt the tip of something sharp agasinst his left cheekbone, but whatever alarm

he should have felt was utterly swept away as he stared into the face of his attacker for the first time:

Prince Adam, clearly awake and aware now.

He might as well have been a complete stranger for how his face was twisted with purest rage and violence, his bright eyes aflame with a tempest of dark intent. The voice he spoke, throaty and deep, with was as unfamiliar as his expression.

"Where am I? And where is my wife?"

Ironically, the pressure he applying to the throat kept Roan from answering. The best he could manage was a strangled grunt.

"Answer me or it goes in," hissed his Prince in his strange and frightening voice. Roan was immediately convinced Adam would indeed push home whatever weapon he was holding. It gave all the incentive needed to force enough air to his lungs and get a clear answer out.

"Ah...ah...Adam...?" Alright, perhaps not the clearest answer, but it did get the Prince (or whoever this was) to ease up a hair.

"What was that?" he growled.

"Ah...dahm...your...Your Highness..." was about all Roan could choke out, as his interrogator's grip had eased but remained a very solid weight. Apparently it was enough, as the Prince's face went from burning wrath to something more akin to confused disbelief. He backed away and looked Roan over as if the Guardsman were some newly uncovered relic of a bygone era, then swept that same gaze to the room in general. Roan got the impression that even though the Prince was no longer looking directly at him, it would be a very poor idea to make any sudden moves.

Rather, he watched his Prince with cautious eyes. There was something decidedly off about him, his stance being slightly if oddly hunched over, and he was tottering about unsteadily. He wanted to chalk it up to simply being stiff after several days of inactivity, but was sure that wasn't it entirely.

The Prince's behavior went from strange to utterly frightening when, while turning a slow circle and head upraised towards the ceiling, his right hip bumped against the edge of the desk. His reaction was to practically jump back as if burnt. Whatever cry might've come was strangled as he looked at his right arm. There was now enough light for Roan to make out his expression, one of fascinated horror. He grimaced as he slowly raised the limb and flexed the fingers, both appearing difficult for him to manage.

It was when Adam took to _poking_ those same fingers and hand with the letter-opener that Roan dared move, pausing only long enough to hear the Prince whisper of "Real?" No sooner had did Roan shift to regain his footing than the Prince spun about, wielding the opener as a professional knife-fighter would, eyes once again dark and piercing.

"Adam?" Roan tried, keeping his hands raised and empty. "Your Highn..."

"Is this..." The Prince paused, blinked twice, and tried again. "Is this...Eternia?"

Roan frowned, strangely disturbed by the tone with which he spoke. It was deeper, nearly gutteral, closer to his father's now than the one he remembered well. Seeing Adam was still waiting for an answer, Roan gave a slow nod, completely unprepared for the way the Prince's shoulders sagged and his solid form seemed to sway. The opener dropped from his hand and clattered to the floor, unheard, as he dragged his fingers through his hair.

"Eternia...Goddess, its..." He feared Adam might faint dead away, leaving him without a clue how to explain all this to the King.

The Prince however recovered with a shakey breath then refocused upon the Guardsman before him. He raised his left hand in the same manner Roan had his, his right arm hanging loosely at his side. "Rohm...Rok...Roan, correct?" Unfamiliar as the tone might have been, the earnestness in the Prince's voice kept the Guardsman from feeling slighted that he'd struggled to remember him. Granted they'd known each other since childhood, but with the sheer number of people demanding time from the Royal Family he could hardly be expected to remember everyone.

_Especially after waking from a coma_, Roan reflected as he confirmed the Prince's question, only to be caught off-guard by the next one.

"I know this will seem a...mad question, but...how long have I...?"

"You've been unconscious for the last three days," Roan answered immediately, feeling panicked by how Adam paled and swayed once more. He was quite sure the Prince was about to topple over, only to gather himself and mutter something Roan could not make out. It didn't sound like Eternan, at least not any dialect Roan recognized. Adam was literally having to hold himself upright, bracing himself with his left arm on the desk, and this was honestly scaring the hell out of Roan.

"Three...days..." the Prince could be heard muttering, voice nearly hoarse with emotion. He suddenly straightened and spun on Roan, causing the Guardsman to stumble back a step in surprise. "Teela," he hissed. "Is she here as well?"

"Of...of course," Roan stumbled, the Prince's sudden shifts in mood leaving him equally off-balance and on edge.

"Where?"

"Her...her quarters..." Before he could continue, Adam was turning on his heel and sprinting out the door. His gait seemed awkward, and Roan didn't think it was from simple joint stiffness. It reminded him, unsettlingly, of how his grandsire would move in his twilight years.

Roan would later kick himself for becoming so distracted by what he'd seen that it took a muffled cry from nearby to pull himself together and try to alert the rest of the palace. He remembered too late that his armor's comms had been damaged in the earlier scuffle, by which time such an alert was naught but a pointless effort.

_**TBC...**_


	2. Maureen

**2/?: What the Maid Saw.**

Maureen Caltal, Maid to the Queen, began her day's duties a bare hour before dawn. Queen Marlena had asked her time and again to cease with the "early bird routine" and just follow the same schedule as the rest of the palace, and Maureen ignored her each time. This wasn't out of petulence or because she made a habit of disobedience. Rather it was simple practicality; the Queen's Maid was amongst the busiest roles in the Royal Court, its responsibilities encompassing far more than Her Majesty's wardrobe and toilette. Correspondence, scheduling of petitioners, updating the information and content of Her Majesty's own petitions, reports and so on. Marlena's chiding of her was mainly for fear Maureen would run herself down and need a replacement; she considered the girl as nigh unto irreplaceable and didn't look forward to trying to train a replacement any day soon.

In the days since the Prince and Captain Teela had both fallen unconscious, Maureen had amended her path slightly so she would pass the chambers of the aforementioned pair. She, like so many of the staff in the palace, had grown up alongside Adam and Teela; the Royal Couple were never the sort to segregate themselves and their offspring from the world beyond where official protocol required, one of the many reasons they were so beloved by the people, and why the current rift between Randor and Adam was more troubling than most realized. The Prince didn't lack for partisans, something Adam and his father both appeared unaware of, and they weren't shy about voicing their dissatisfaction. They were discrete and cautious in the doing, true, but they were already numerous and growing moreso as the seasons wore on.

That the bone of contention between King and heir was the latter's radical shift in behavior. One of the hardest, busiest bodies in the palace suddenly becoming a self-centered, shallow pleasure-seeker, one who fled from the first hint of danger? The only fools to believe this was reality were the season's band of courtiers, Captain Teela, and the King himself. Those who knew the Prince, even in passing, could see it for the utter fascade it was, and pondered endlessly what the cause of it was.

The current theory was there was some kind of sorcery at play, given Adam's change coincided with the first appearance of He-Man. Few had seen this era's Champion of Grayskull closely enough to see and recognize the familiar features Maureen had. It as a secret she held close to her heart and never gave hint of knowing, rather watching everyone else carefully to see if they'd made the connection as well, relieved that it appeared confined to the Man-at-Arms and the Queen herself. She had suspicions about Orko, but the Trollan was a hard read even at the best of times.

What puzzled her most, beyond trying to divine the nature of the connection there was between the Prince and the Hero, was why Captain Teela seemed blind to the obvious. She spent more time in the company of both personas than anyone else, yet she missed no opportunity to publically berate the Prince for vanishing from sight when battle approached. At first Maureen thought she was simply 'playing along' with the Prince's (presumably necessary) deception, but soon realized that the Captain was as ignorant of it as the King. Others had already taken note of this and were becoming more vocal of their disapproval of her, which boded ill for the future as there was little question in Maureen's mind precisely _who_ the next Queen of Eternia would be.

All that might well be rendered moot given both the Prince and Captain had been struck unconscious by something no-one could identify. The commotion in the infirmary two nights ago, sounding for all the world like an attack from Skeletor, put the entire palace on a razor's edge. Even the seeming serenity with which the King and Queen resumed Court felt as much an act as one of Orko's tricks, and the Court was positively abuzz with speculation and idiotic rumors.

Maureen was realistic enough to recognize there little she herself could do to smooth these troubles. She'd made it a point to walk past the Prince's and Captain's quarters several times a day, just on the off-chance one or the other awoke. It was as much for her own peace of mind as an official duty she now considered her own; it was her role to be the Queen's eyes and ears, and having the Prince or Captain finally rouse would be vital (and welcome) news indeed.

That morning appeared the same as the prior one: nothing but silence and stillness within both chambers. At least that was first impression. Maureen found herself pausing at the Captain's doorway, sensing something...different. There was no audible sound nor any visible threats in the first shadows of dawn, yet she had the feeling that _something_ had come to pass.

Her feet moved of their own accord, carrying her past the door and into the suite proper. The Captain was not a woman known for artistic tastes or an interest in décor, so it was no surprise the front room was sparse of ornament. Even her workdesk was clear and organized as if it had never been used. There was nothing amiss there, and while she hesitated to invade the Captain's bedroom, Maureen felt there was little choice but to check there as well.

Keeping to the long shadows, she crept forward to the bedroom door, anxious to be done with this and without creating a fuss. The chamber's door was open, affording clear view of both the bed and chest to one side. Maureen felt her breath catch at the sight of rumbled, _empty_ bedding. She did not rush forward however, but kept her pace slow and relaxed, intuition warning her there was danger nearby and she would do well to imimitate the shadows. Fearing the worst, Maureen crouched by the door and ever so slowly peered around its solid bulk.

Her heart and breath shuddered in time at the sight of Teela standing aways from the bed, clearly awake if not aware. Maureen frowned to herself at the Captain's actions, or more accurately her _lack_ of action. She stood in the middle of the floor, slowly circling in place as if she'd never seen the room or its walls before, her body language all but screaming exactly that. Her hands clenched and unclenched, fingers darting about in odd but deliberate patterns.

Maureen watched, fear lessening to mere confusion as the Captain appeared to catch sight of the full-length mirror near the room's long wardrobe. Her stance and movements were slow and uncertain as she approached it, staring at her reflection there with what seemed both confusion and anxiety. She ran her hands over her face and arms, looking at herself close up, then in profile, body visibly shaking and chest heaving the longer she stared. If Maureen hadn't known better, she would have sworn the Captain was starting weep at the sight before her.

Over the years Maureen had seen Teela in nearly every emotional state. Indeed, she prided herself on being among Teela's few confidates. But never in living memory could she recall seeing the Captain of the Guard shed so much as a single tear in either pain or sadness. Yet here she was, looking for all the world like some maiden from an overdramatic sonnet, a world removed from the confident, invincible warrior Maureen had known her whole life.

She could nought be watch as Teela crouched down and gather up the hem of her nightshirt, straightening up and bringing the gown up so her stomach was exposed. Maureen felt a bit of a voyeur watching as Teela ran her free hand over the toned skin; there was noting remotely sexual in the action (despite her lack of underwear), but still Maureen felt as if she were witnessing something private, not to be sullied by other's eyes.

Maureen felt a fool and worse for having to debate her next move for even a second. She rose to her feet, intent upon backing out of the suite as silently as she'd entered. Unfortunately she misjudged her weight slightly and, wholly without meaning to, stumbled partially into view from the door. Normally she would have quickly apologized and bowed her way out.

She wasn't given the chance to even draw breath as Teela spun and threw something directly at her. Maureen found herself frozen in place as the projectile sped towards her, little more than a blur in the air, targeted unerringly for her head!

Then...it stopped, a bare finger-width from her eye. Maureen could only blink, once, at the sight of pencil-thin blade that hovered directly before her. After that, other background details penetrated her awareness: the large hand that held the blade away from her, the equally muscular arm behind that hand...

Prince Adam standing beside her, appearing as if by magic, left arm outstretched and weapon in hand.

His chest heaved once, twice, then flipped the blade and nimbly caught it in mid-air between his thumb and forefinger. He let go another shuddering breath and growled "Fetch our parents. Go!" Maureen quit the room with all haste, nearly colliding with one of the Guardsman as he was coming out of the Prince's chambers at the same moment. She quickly recognized him and began babbling the same time as he did.

"Maureen? The Prince, he's awake..."

"Roan, she's awake...Teela's awake..."

"He's...he's...run somewhere..."

"In there...with her..."

"He threw me across the room..."

"She threw a knife at me..."

"Something's wrong with him!"

"Something's wrong with her!"

This last was all but shouted simultaneously, the two actually _hearing_ each other for the first time. "You get..."

"The King!"

"Duncan!" They exchanged a quick nod and set off in opposite directions in a desperate run, both praying to the Elders the pair wouldn't fall unconscious again – or worse – while they were gathering their parents.

**TBC...**


	3. Randor, Marlena, Duncan

**3/?: What the Parents Confronted.**

Fortunately both the Royals and Duncan were roused by the time their respective messengers arrived, breathless and not a little frantic in their explanations. It had the three parents practically racing to the Captain's suite; normally they would have moved a more sedate pace, if only to keep the gossips from misconstruing their haste for panic and terror. All three were beyond worrying about petty concerns, and indeed were nearly so hasty that they missed the caution with which both Maid and Guardsman spoke as they related what they'd seen.

Their respective accounts differed, naturally, but the central point was unmistakable: there was something very, _very_ different about the newly-awakened pair, at least in contrast to how they appeared and acted before. Neither could point to any specific thing in those rushed minutes, but their conviction was enough to give the parents slight pause in their race.

Their caution was proven justified as Duncan, who reached Teela's room first, was startled as he entered her bedroom. His mind had only just processed the image of Adam and Teela kneeling on the floor and grasping each other tight, when the latter literally sprang to her feet, arm drawn back as if let a throwing blade fly; where she had hidden such a weapon escaped him as surely as the blade would have her hand. Fortunately Adam proved equally fast in jumping up and catching her hand as it swung forward, preventing said blade from doing exactly that.

Duncan could make out his daughter's expression at this, not one of anger or argument, but of wide-eyed terror and embarrassment. Adam's back to towards him, thus he had no idea what the Prince made of this beyond his obviously expecting such a move, hence his catching it so smoothly. His heart positively ached as he watched her all but collapse back into Adam's arms, her hands bunching the fabric of his own nightshirt, clinging to him as if for dear life.

An odd chill came over Duncan as he watched this, one he could not begin to explain even to himself. With some reluctance, he stepped forward and softly called "Teela? Sweetheart?"

Teela then let go of the Prince and, clearly equally hesitant, tottered towards him. She kept her eyes downcast, appearing slightly unsteady in gait, before all but colliding and throwing her arms about him. "Poppa," was all she managed, her voice as raw and deep as he'd ever heard her. Duncan crushed her to him, only dimly aware of Randor and Marlena's own arrival, and of their having to push past him to reach Adam.

Through teary eyes, Duncan watched as his oldest friends embraced their son, only to frown a moment later as he noticed something…odd: Adam appeared to be using only his left arm to embrace his parents, while his right arm dangled loose at his side. He'd held Teela with his left arm _only..._caught her arm with his left hand _only..._

Duncan frowned hard and placed his arms on his daughter's shoulders, gently disengaging her hold on him and asking "Teela? Look at me. Please?" His girl seemed disinclined to do so, and so he placed his finger under her chin and with the greatest care drew her face upwards. While she obliged him there, her eyes were the last to rise and meet his. Duncan was understandably taken aback at the sight of her eyes, dark and glittering as they were like polished obsideon.

He blinked quickly, unable to comprehend what he saw, only to be shocked still further that an instant later those same eyes were their original bright blue. Surely it had just been a trick of the morning light? But the depth and age with which she gazed on him now, _that_ was no trick or phantasm. Duncan was shaken all the same by it (whatever _it_ had been). Teela's gaze on him – one pure wonderment – wasn't helping. She even reached up and ran both palms over his face, as if touching some priceless glasswork that would shatter under the smallest pressure.

"Father," she breathed quietly, her voice strangely deeper and darker. "Father…I'd forgotten…Goddess, I'd forgotten…" She buried her face back into his chest, shoulders shaking again. Duncan felt tears start to soak the fabric of his shirt, his head now swimming in churning waters without relief in sight. Teela…his Teela…actually _crying_? And her voice, throaty and dry in comparison to how she normally sounded, it might as well have been a stranger speaking. His grip on her tightened and a singular question formed in his mind. _What had happened to her?_

Another unfamiliar voice spoke up. "Someone should summon the healers." It was more a command than an idle suggestion, one Duncan found himself very nearly stepping out to obey. He caught himself immediately and looked over to where this stranger was, prepared to berate the man for barking orders in the King's presence…jaw closing with a loud 'clack' seeing it was Adam who had spoken. He was now seated on Teela's bed, his mother sitting to his left and holding his hand, his father standing beside her. Duncan had to shake his head clear, something about the scene there striking him strange, as if it were a portrait of the monarch and his heir, except the heir was the only one standing.

His temples were throbbing at this bizarre line of thought, adding to his already confused state of mind given his daughter atypical behavior. If he didn't get some order to his thoughts soon, _he'd_ be the one desperately needing Himon's care.

As if summoned by just the thought of his name, the elder healer breezed into the room with several attendants trailing close behind. The white-haired practitioner swept the room with his eyes, taking in everything, gaze lingering upon the Prince and Captain. His characteristic frown deepened slightly at the sight of each, then nodded and said "It's too crowded in here. Your Highness, would you and your parents mind going out front? Thank you."

Where Adam would normally, if not literally jump to obey, this time he grit his teeth and stood. There was a meeting of eyes between himself and Teela, after which he quit the room, notably without waiting for his parents. Again, the question resounded in Duncan's mind, the same as was written on Randor and Marlena's faces.

_What had happened to them?_

**_TBC..._**


	4. Himon

**4/?: What the Healer Learned.**

Himon Cirtia had dedicated his life to the relief and care of others. It had been his calling from earliest memory, and he was inarguably a master at his craft, both for the body and (sometimes) the heart as well.

The inexplicable malady that had felled the Prince and his Captain – or was it the Captain and her Prince? – vexed him no end these last three days. He'd gone over copious notes of every illness, poison, venom, and whatnot recorded through Eternia's written history, and not one could explain what had happened. He had routinely taken blood samples from both, and they were as clean and pristine as ever. Their breathing was as normal as regular sleep. IV drips kept them hydrated, which was one of the few points of immediate concern and where he felt like he was actually _doing _something and not simply watching helpless.

Elders knew that after the insanity two nights of two nights before, his sense of helplessness proved to be the _least_ of their many problems. Himon was also honest enough with himself to recognize the absurd ego involved there, something he'd worked hard to overcome if not excise altogether. Clearly he still had work to do there, and the work before him was sure to keep him occupied for the foreseeable future.

Upon entering Teela's bed chamber, Himon wondered for a mad half-moment if he wasn't in the wrong place entirely. Yes, Adam and Teela were clearly awake, presumably conscious enough to move under their own strength given Adam was sitting upon a bed not his own, and Teela was held tightly by her father across the room. Even so, something was different in the two of them. Learning to read a person's body language was every bit as useful as discovering the source of an ailment as reading symptoms, and the two youngsters in that room all but screamed anything but simple and confused youth. There was the (admittedly remote) chance they were in fact imposters; the possibility of such was something he needed to keep in mind going forward.

Nevertheless the first order of his business however was simple enough: assess the pair's current condition, and go from there. The tension in the room however had gotten to the point where everyone was starting to notice and fidget; given said tension was emanating directly from the two patients in question, Himon had to quickly think through if it was wise to separate them. He ultimately decided he needed to focus on each one in turn, if only to try to get a read on whatever was within them individually. "It's too crowded in here," he declared with breezy professionalism, and waved towards Adam. "You Highness, would you and your parents mind going out front? Thank you."

Misgivings for this immediately sprang to mind seeing how the Prince clenched his teeth tight and marched out of the room, notably without waiting for his parents. It was…uncharacteristic, to say the least. Oh, Himon had noticed the Prince's apparent slide into self-indulgence, and he harbored a few suspicions of what was behind it all. Whatever the King and the rest of Court might see and believe, which clearly was what little Adam wished them to, Himon could see the enormous strain the lad was under.

More than once he'd been tempted to intervene and make the boy rest himself, and more than once he'd held himself back for fear of exacerbating the situation. "If you can't help, don't hinder," was amongst the earliest lessons Himon had learned, and promised himself to watch the situation carefully. He'd feared initially that Adam had finally and simply collapsed from the sheer weight of everything upon his shoulders, and was perversely reassured at learning Teela had likewise collapsed. One or the other breaking under the stress of their respective lives was credible enough to be a worry, but both simultaneously? Himon judged the odds against it as truly astronomical, if only because one would surely remain coherent and strong to shield the other as they pulled themselves back together.

That said, now that both were again awake and apparently aware, Himon took a moment to visually assess the Prince, not entirely sure what he was seeing. He sat in one of the love seats, neither rigidly nor looking terribly relaxed. Indeed, he was running his left palm up and down his right arm, eyes fixed on the limb as if he was seeing it for the first time. It was bizarre.

Himon stepped aside quickly, allowing his parents to follow him and take seats beside him. At least his mother could do so, placing a comforting hand on her son's right shoulder and not taking her eyes off him. Randor needed to drag one of the few sitting chairs over to flank Adam on his left, likewise keeping him in sight, if only on the periphery. Himon pulled the workdesk's chair over and positioned himself so he sat directly before Adam. The elder felt a trace of regret this couldn't be done in more relaxed setting, but this assessment was vital if he was to proceed best.

"Your Highness?" he started, trying not to read too much into Adam's newfound fascination with his arm.

"I hear you, Himon." Both the King and Queen nearly started at how Adam's voice had deepened, much like Teela's, and carried an emotional weight so great as to be crushing.

Himon took note, but offered no outward reaction. Rather he asked "Do you know where you are?"

This earned him a frown and odd look from his nominal patient, both which quickly melted away as comprehension dawned. "Ah, assessment," he muttered to himsef, then gave the elder an indulgent smile. Adam cleared his throat and, meeting Himon's eyes directly, said "I am sitting in the front room of the assigned quarters of Teela, the Captain of the Palace Guard. This room is eighth floor in the north wing of the palace of Eternos, on the planet Eternia." He gave a small, humorless grin and added "Shall I name the major continents and map references?"

Himon declined to rise to the bait and reply "Not necessary. You clearly know where you are spatially. But who are you?"

"I am Adam, Crown Prince of Eternos, only son and heir of King Randor and his wife, Queen Marlena." He paused, both for dramatic effect and because he noticed the infinitesimal flinch his Mother had at this. "Shall I recite their respective lineages? Given Mother is from another planet…"

"Again, not necessary, Your Highness. You know where you are and who you are." Now it was Himon's turn to frown and stare with visible energy. "Do you know what happened to you?"

"Can you be a bit more specific?" Adam asked, apparently attempting to dodge the obvious. Himon found this noteworthy and mentally filed it away for reference. He added a note to consult Attendant Lara, who was conducting the same assessment on Teela; the Captain's reactions were hopefully as illuminating as the Princes'.

In answer to Adam's question-dodge, he said "Do you know why you are here, in this room?"

"I…ah," Adam stumbled, eyes falling again to his right hand as it lay limp in his lap. He took a deep breath and looked back up. "I woke up, in my own chambers, barely one bell ago. I…was disorientated and didn't recognize Guardsman Roan, who I take it was on patrol." Himon noted his refusal to go into any immediate specifics there and made another note to speak with Roan directly. "It was only after I subdued him did I start to recognize my surroundings. I then came here to see if Teela was likewise…awake…and stayed with her until you arrived."

"Hmm," Himon nodded, not deflected for an instant by this wordy summation. "You said you woke up in your own bedroom. Were you asleep?"

"Roan said I'd been unconscious for three days…"

"That isn't what I asked," Himon interrupted. "Were you asleep?"

"No," Adam admitted after another pause. "I…don't know what happened to me before waking up here." The elder's experienced eye caught how very still the Prince became as he said this. It was clear as any signal that he was either lying (hard to imagine, but plausible) or simply not speaking the whole truth (easier to imagine and far more plausible). Whether the omission was of true relevance or not was not important, but just the fact he felt he needed to do so set off warning bells to the healer. He'd need to proceed carefully here, lest Adam clam up completely.

"Do you remember what happened before you woke up here?" Something flashed in his eyes and expression at the question, something which flared and died as quickly as it came. If Himon were pressed, he would have called it panic, perhaps with a dose of fear coloring it. Neither mental state was one he would ever have associated with the Prince, and gave him a small shudder of his own.

Adam schooled his expression and posture once more to reveal as little as possible before he answered. "I…don't remember anything from…before I…um, collapsed here in the Palace." There was the slightest inflection in the word 'here', the rest of it sounding an honest, if incomplete answer. "Everything before this is…is a fog." Himon decided against pressing for anything further there and change tracks to the present.

"What is wrong with your arm, Adam?" The omission of title was quickly noticed by all present, the parents glancing between the limb in question, their son's stony face, and the elder's earnest eyes.

"I…" Adam paused once more and shook his head, bravely meeting Himon's gaze and studiously avoiding his parent's. "I can't move my right arm."

The elder and parents were both startled by the admission, their eyes all drawn now to the apparently-useless arm. Himon quickly came to kneel before the Prince, running his fingertips up and down the length of arm itself, concentrating on what they reported. Marlena had presence of mind to move aside enough for him to work, although her hawk-like eyes watched every move carefully.

"I don't feel any breaks or muscular damage," the healer quickly reported, then glanced back to the bedroom door. "Scots," he fairly bellowed, the junior attendant hustling into view. "My instruments, bring them here." The young man did as bade, opening and unrolling a leather packet, within which were stored a variety of needles, hypodermics, bandages, and other such tools of his profession. Himon retrieved one of the empty hypodermic needles and positioned it over the right hand.

"Adam, close your eyes." The Prince nodded and did so without protest. His parents watched silently as Himon proceeded to jab the needlepoint into his fingertips, his palm, the back of his hand, and seemingly random points further up his arm. Each touch of the needle to skin caused the finger or hand to jerk slightly. One of the last jabs was near the elbow itself, which elicited not only the entire arm jerking but a visible flinch from the Prince himself.

"There doesn't appear to be any nerve interruption. Adam, try to squeeze my hand. Just try." The most the Prince could manage was the slightest movement of fingers inwards, and this alone clearly took great concentration on his part. Himon was nevertheless pleased with even this small movement and expressed it as "Good, good. Excellent in fact. You can open your eyes now." Adam did so and refocused on the elder before him. "Do you actually feel your arm here?"

Adam nodded sharply. "Yes, I feel it. Its there, its real…" Himon noted the odd choice of words, although his parents did not appear to; in itself another thing to ponder, but later.

"Majesty," the elder addressed the King, with a short nod to the Queen as well. "I think it best we take them back to the infirmary. I can conduct a more thorough exam there." Adam caught the flash of reluctance his father threw out, puzzled and genuinely worried. In his long-gone youth, his father had been anything but reluctant about him visiting Himon's surgery, more than once hustling Adam there himself over the most trivial injuries.

Nevertheless, Randor nodded decisively. "Agreed. Teela as well, I trust."

"Of course." Himon allowed his attendant to steady him as he rose, then waited as Scot rolled his instruments folder back closed. "Lara?" he next called, his senior attendant appearing in the connecting doorway. "Bring the Captain to the Infirmary."

"Yes, sir," she affirmed and ducked back into the bedroom.

"Himon?" Adam spoke up. "Perhaps someone should fetch some robes for us first? I suspect the palace is already…confused by what has happened. The sight of Teela and I parading around in our nightclothes won't help quiet things." His tone was mild and expression neutral, yet there was a carried weight behind them that it might as well have been a Royal Decree. Himon and Randor openly stared, both hearing a near-perfect mirror of the King's late father there. It was disturbing on several levels at once, and merely reinforced the sense of unease with which everyone now regarded the Prince and Captain.

The suggestion, and no-one thought for an instant the Prince would offer anything besides, was taken to heart and Marlena moved to get Adam one from his own room. Randor had simply gone through too many shocks of late to think that far ahead and took Himon aside, desperate for the elder's take on these things. Duncan had heard the same, and gone for Teela's as the rest of the attendants departed.

This left the pair momentarily to themselves, a wry smile being exchanged. Adam, looking strangely mesmerized, raised a hand and traced around her left eye and cheek. "Beautiful," he murmured. Teela merely smiled, holding his fingers to her and turning her head and delivery a feathery kiss to them.

Marlena and Duncan both returned from their respective chores almost simultaneously, both stopping short at the sight of their offspring engaged in so tender a moment. They both heard words were exchanged between the two, low and in confidence of one another, but oddly the dialect completely unknown to either parent; yet _another_ puzzle to be dealt with, but in due course. First they all needed reassurance, however hollow it might ultimately prove.

Hence the Queen and Man-at-Arms casually strolling back into the room, the requested robes in their arms and carefully-schooled expressions which offered no clue as to what they'd seen. The children were equally cool in their stances upon their parent's return, and indeed, had both not witnessed the scene moments earlier they would have thought the pair had simply stood there during their very brief absence.

Marlena and Duncan kept their thoughts – which were racing in slightly different directions to one and the other – to themselves on that score and simply handed over the requested garments, even giving their respective child aid in putting their's on, Adam's lame arm and some unsteadiness on Teela's part requiring it. The children even consented to their parents keeping hold of them as they marched, parade fashion, to the infirmary.

**TBC...**


	5. Adam

**5/?: When the Prince Awoke...**

Adam awoke far more quickly than was his wont. Awareness normally was slow in coming in recent seasons, small wonder given how _many_ seasons he'd seen, and would creep across his senses as the dawn's light would across the horizon. His well-worn senses would likewise begin working again; smell, hearing, touch, and finally sight would return to him, none revealing any surprises beyond how late the morning he'd awakened.

That morning was different, with Adam becoming alert almost instantly. This immediately put him on guard, old instincts kicking in and readying him without conscious thought. He let himself lay where he was, eyes still closed and reached out with his other senses. His surroundings were…different from their home; somewhere at once noisier, yet more sedate. Many, many people moving about, but doing so without haste. There was a current of tension in the air, but diffuse and free-flowing. Strange.

Stranger still were the scents that hung in the air: fresh flowers of some kind, bark of well-tended trees, the hint of electricity, distant smells of food and wine, and metal and oils here and there. Their bed chamber was situated to look out over Minars Sea, yet there was not the hint of brine to be detected.

Adam shifted himself sleepily, left arm reaching to the other side of the mattress to reassure him that, whatever else might be amiss, his other half was secure by his side. Imagine then his surprise to find himself completely alone, and laying upon a much smaller bed than he recalled.

Patience and caution both vanished in a trice as he forced his weary body to roll off the bed and crouch in anticipation. He took in the vision of his surroundings, forcing himself to remain calm at the sight of unfamiliar stone walls and tapestries. Their chambers were as spare and sedate as their children would allow, which wasn't very far in comparison to the rest of the capital. Adam knew every room and inch and alcove of their home, having built much of it himself, and this place most _definitely_ was not part of the architecture.

"Weaver," he hissed to himself. The hag was surely party in this abduction, although what profit she might gain of it escaped him. That was the only rational conclusion he could draw, given the colors and furniture had a sharp quality to them, as if they truly solid and real. The hag had refined her art over their lifetime, making the impossible feel real, if only in fleeting. This also explained why his right arm suddenly appeared – and _felt_ – like this.

What unsettled him most was the sense of familiarity to it all. Had he seen a place like this once, in his long travels? The tapestries were beautiful works certainly, and the style was mature and precise. The furniture was both practical and ornate, hand-carved pieces he was sure, with a hint of (ugh!) royalty to them. His bed was a four-poster one, but lacking the curtains they often needed to draw to ward off the chills of age, not to mention noticeably smaller. It could hold two easily, but they would be in close quarters and have precious little extra space for themselves.

Adam's visual exploration of the room was cut short by the sound and sight of movement in the next room. Again, old instincts took hold and he was gliding out of the room, implacable as a tidal wave and near-soundless as the breeze. He used his momentum to grab the man who was making for the room's other doorway, seizing him by the back of the collar and propelling him face-first into the wall. Adam executed a near-perfect flip-throw (not bad for a man in his age) of the intruder, following it up with an equally strong kick and backhand, leaving the target clearly insensate.

Adam seized his chance and hauled the man again by the collar, forcing him against the closest piece of furniture. Fortuitously, it was a desk of some kind, which yielded a convenient letter opener for use as a weapon. Pressing his elbow into the intruder's neck and positioning the opener's point to an unguarded temple, Adam quietly demanded "Where am I? And where is my wife?"

The man could naught be gurgle something intelligible. "Talk, or it goes in!" The morning light was now filling the room sufficiently he could see his captive's bulging, panicked eyes, and how his cheeks were taking a dark shade of purple. Adam realized a moment later he was strangling the poor fool, and dead men could tell him nothing. He eased his grip enough to give the man air, and was shocked beyond reason at the words that came next.

"Prince Adam…?"

'Prince'? No-one had called him by that title in more seasons than living memory could recall. He'd left that behind upon waking in that damned desert with…and he never used it in all their time…

Adam realized distantly that we had backed away from the man, his eyes and attention roaming throughout the room. The light from outside filled the great space, revealing the desk and other furniture, fine paintings on the wall, throw rugs and other ornaments. If this was indeed the Weaver's work, she'd reached deep into his memories for this level of detail.

That comforting explanation was disproved when his right hip brushed against the desk. His right hand likewise brushed against the wood surface, catching a rough edge of it, causing Adam to jerk back in shock. To this point he'd discounted the appearance of that limb as part of this grand illusion, but that scratch had actually _hurt_. Illusions, he knew from experience, didn't _hurt_ when they made contact with something. And now his arm hurt. _His right arm actually hurt! _That meant it…it was…

"Real?" he heard his own voice murmur, at once wondering and terrified. It was impossible, simply and utterly impossible that his arm had been restored, whole and complete. Yet, he _felt_ the _pain_ each time he _jabbed_ the fingers and palm with the opener. Illusions did not, could not cause one pain; the mind could be fooled into thinking it, but the body and nerves always knew better. This was no phantom pain…thus his arm was…was _real_…

He caught a sight of his reflection in the glass of the balcony's window-door, seeing the young face there, one with hair still a vibrant blonde and chin and cheeks clean of hair. Could this truly…truly be…had he…could…

Adam forced his eyes away from the impossible vista about him and looked towards the man he'd all but brutalized, clearly seeing now the familiar green and orange uniform of an Eternian guardsman. His face too was something, someone he distantly remembered. He stumbled a few variations of "R" names until he chanced "Roan?"

The guardsman nodded, and Adam continued, trying hard not to sound desperate. "This will seem a mad question…but how long…"

"You've been unconscious for three days…"

Adam's mind ceased function, at least on any conscious level. Three days? Compared to the lifetimes he'd…they'd lived? All in the span of _just three days_? It was surely enough to tip any rational man into screeching insanity, and Adam felt himself physically swaying as if that abyss were material as well as mental. Roan's voice was a distant noise that couldn't penetrate the clamoring in his head. At least not until he said another's name.

"Teela!" Adam was sure he nearly shouted her name. "Is she here as well?"

"Her quarters…" Whatever else Roan might have said was lost to him, as Adam was already racing from the room, blind instinct leading him to the next room over. The Goddess was smiling upon him as the door was already open, saving him the time and energy of breaking it down. Good thing too, as he raced forward and managed – barely – to catch the thinblade that was sailing directly towards some poor maid standing in the bedroom door, stopping it just short of its target.

"Fetch our parents," he ordered without looking at the girl. "Go!" The maid quit the room as quickly as he'd hoped, though he hadn't the wit anymore to worry over her.

All the worry he needed stood before him now, in a room he'd never dared enter in the past, her hip-length roan hair loose and in utter disarray and once sparkling blue eyes now obsidian pools. _So her powers followed us here_, Adam mused to himself as he stood in the doorway, allowing the other occupant of the room time to calm herself. He prayed she wasn't so disorientated that she no longer recognized her surroundings, or him come to it; having to subdue her would likely be challenging (and equally likely quite painful).

It was…jarring, to see her with her hair long once again, and her without that damned half-masque she'd taken to wearing. The morning light, filtered as it was through gossamer curtains and her nightgown, gave definition but not detail to her slender and unbreakable form. She had never changed in that respect, no matter the trial they endured or wounds suffered.

For a crazed half-moment, he was back in that damned desert, prepared to sink his axe into the head of the murderous queen of a murderous horde, only to have her shake her hood away and let him gaze on a face he'd _known_ until that very moment to have belonged to the dead. He wondered what memory came to her mind as he stood there, waiting?

Whatever might have played in her minds eye, Teela set it aside and gave a small curtsey, eyes downwards and balance unsteady. Decades on, and she was still clumsy at it. "Your Highness...I...uh..." Adam felt a palpable relief at her words. Not the words themselves, but her voice, every bit as deep and melodious as he remembered from the previous night.

It meant _she_ was here, with him.

"It's me, Tee," he said, his own tone as calm and low as he might manage.

She looked up at him, her eyes returned to their normal shinning blue. "Adam?"

"Its _me_," he repeated, voice at once stronger and splintering. He tottered over towards her, his own balance suddenly uncertain.

They fairly collided with one another, her arms around him, his one good arm around her. Every ounce of strength they could manage poured into the embrace.

"We're back? Really back?" It was all Teela could manage, her eyes darting between his and his right arm. She touched it in wonder, just as Adam traced her left eye and cheek, both now as damp with tears as his own.

"We're back," Adam affirmed, his voice lost to him after that. Their knees buckled under them at some point, Teela's going first by a small margin, pulling Adam down with her. He wondered if their nightclothes weren't tearing for the death-grip they had one another. How he wished he could make his right arm move. It had been so very, very long since he'd been able to hold her with both arms…

The quiet was shattered by the sudden arrival of their parents, Teela springing to her feet and hand drawn back, prepared to let another thinblade fly. Adam managed to rise and grab her hand in mid-swing, mentally kicking himself as he did for not realizing quicker how on-edge she must have been. She'd damn near speared that poor maid but moments ago; with her sight full restored, it was good odds Teela was suffering sensory overload and not fully realizing it. It was worse given their now restored…returned…youth, her reflexes surely sharper than ever.

"Tee!" he hissed into her ear. "It's been three days _here_."

"Three…?" She nearly fainted at this, but instead took to clinging tighter to him. Duncan's long-missed voice interrupted their momentary serenity, gently calling for Teela.

"Go to him, Love," Adam urged, and she went, leaving him to stand there still reeling from the shock of their restoration. He only barely heard or saw his own parents, both grasping onto him themselves and he onto them as best he could. Adam went further and attempted to make comforting noises of his own, his thoughts acquiring desperate speed at how to explain what they would learn in coming hours.

Sadly, nothing came readily to mind, and he was left adrift as ever. Across the room, he met Teela's eyes and saw the same struggle underway. It was strangely comforting knowing she, who so often was steps ahead of him and calm in the face of all chaos, was as discomforted as he was.

It was a cold comfort when he thought of the sheer volume of revelations before them, and what awaited them after.

**TBC...**


	6. Himon Again

**6/?: What the Healer Discovered.**

Himon returned to the exam room, throwing a strange look at his two patients, and quickly picked up the vial-gun. He drew new blood samples from both Adam and Teela and was gone without having said a single word. Both the King and Queen paid this little mind, but Duncan was disturbed enough to hover near the door while keeping Teela in clear sight. The nurse attendants were their typical fuss-pots, taking the common battery of tests and scribbling in their otherwise indecipherable scripts, it lent a certain level of routine to the scene that helped put everyone present at ease.

That ease all but evaporated when Himon stepped back into the room, his usual frown so much deeper and darker. He gestured for the nurses to leave, murmuring instructions to them to clear the infirmary entirely and engage the outside seals. It was the sort of action he'd normally have resisted taking, and would later kick himself for as an overreaction and still more grist for the rumor mill. As it was, he was simply too disturbed to think further than keeping his next words as controlled as possible, both in the saying and whose ears they'd go to.

The elder waited an appropriate span, then looked directly at the Prince and Captain. "I have just one question for you both: exactly how old are you now?"

"Why would you ask such a thing?" queried Adam, not looking even remotely surprised by it.

"Because if I hadn't taken and run your blood work myself, I'd think the vials had been mixed up with ones from Madame Rostha." Rostha was the unofficial 'social secretary' to the Queen and easily the single oldest person attached to the Palace. No-one was sure of her exact age, given she wore it incredibly well and needed nothing but a cane to walk around; Randor had known her since his birth, and he confessed she'd already looked ancient back then.

Adam and Teela glanced to one another, an entire conversation passing between them before Adam answered "What did you find that makes you think that?"

"First, I don't 'think' it. The vials were in my hands at all times, thus a mix-up isn't realistic. Second…" Himon paused and instead addressed the parents gathered there. "You Majesties, Duncan, you know how our bodies change internally as we grow older? Men's testosterone levels gradually diminish, as do women's estrogen levels. Plus metabolic rates slow however gradually, and women will suffer some rather jarring complications…"

"Yes, yes," Marlena put in. "Menopause and all that. What does that have to do with Adam and Teela?"

Himon had to think a few seconds how best to say what he needed _without_ sounding utterly mad. "Their hormone levels right now read as so low as to be virtually nonexistent. There's also some very, very faint traces of antigens in Teela's blood I've only ever seen relating to pregnancy."

Duncan was the only one who could form a vaguely coherent response to this. "Wait…what…?" Randor and Marlena just stared as Himon continued, neither of them looking like they'd actually heard a blessed thing.

"Beyond that, their insulin levels are significantly off, suggesting their metabolic rates have suddenly changed speed. Not unheard of, but neither is it even remotely common enough to be normal." He all but glared at the Prince and added "I'll wager when we x-ray your throat we'll see some sudden development in your larynx and vocal chords, Your Highness. Teela's as well, although perhaps not as notable as she _isn't _sounding like she's suddenly put on a few decades.

"So, again, exactly how _old_ are you two now?"

Neither Adam nor Teela saw fit to respond immediately, nor meet the fixed gazes of their parents. Randor and Duncan were entirely too taken aback by this information to speak, while Marlena had no difficulty there. "What does that mean?" she demanded. "How is that even possible?"

Adam sighed and looked towards them. "That…would take a lifetime to describe." This was the first time their eyes had directly met, and his parents fairly trembled at the depth and age reflected in those blue eyes. "Because that's what it's been: a lifetime." A moment's glance was shared between himself and Teela, much being communicated there. It was Teela who spoke next, and in the process tore the rug and floor out from everyone.

"Our bodies were here, on Eternia. But our minds and souls were…elsewhere. And as Adam said, we've lived a full lifetime there."

"How long?" Marlena asked, her grip on her husband turning her knuckles white. It was amazing she was able to speak, never mind coherently. She seemed the only one capable of it at that moment, even as her eyes bespoke of something very far from calm or coherent.

Adam's lips quirked an odd grin. "Long enough to see my grandchildren have grandchildren." Teela blew a small, deliberate breath, leading Adam to amend his words. "_Our_ grandchildren."

Teela muttered something in an unknown language, which led Adam to glance her way and snicker in the same. Whatever was said brought a whisp of a smile to Teela as well, even as her own gaze moved from her father back to her hands. Himon watched the interplay with the sort of dethatched fascination one watches an avalanche form and fall down a mountainside, at once overwhelmingly awed and emotionlessly objective. "Your arm?" he managed to ask.

"I lost use of it awhile ago. What for me…us…was awhile ago."

"'Awhile' being…what?" Himon ventured. "A year? Five years? Ten?"

"Long enough to become used to having just my left hand to work with." Adam threw an annoyed glance at Teela as she loosed a loud breath and another curse. "Tee…"

"Tell them," she growled, powerful authority residing in those two words.

Adam attempted to argue, saying "It will change nothing…"

"Tell them, damn you."

"Tee…"

"Tell them or I will!" Before Adam could even open his mouth again, Teela jumped to her feet and snarled "He can't move his right arm because he _hasn't had a right arm in a good many years!_"

Himon blinked and tried to digest this. "He 'hasn't had'…you mean he _literally_ lost it? As in…" When he couldn't bring himself to finish the obvious, Adam did so.

"It was amputated," he stated flatly. "My shoulder included." Adam's reply was every bit as calm as her's was frantic, and no less furious for it. "You'll want to watch yourself on Teela's left side. She hasn't had use of that eye longer than I haven't had my arm." His lip curled in clear distain. "Lost it whilst battling to save my worthless carcass."

"You were bleeding out," Teela hissed. "What was I to do? Leave you there?"

"We aren't having this argument again, Tee." Adam sounded very tired and worn at saying this, as if it were something repeated day in and out for longer than living memory.

"There's no argument to be had, Adam," Teela said, voice neither triumphant nor placated. They caught each other's eyes and chuckled as one.

"Nyssa would have our heads if she heard us arguing like this."

"Your head, Adam. Me she'd just run through and leave me…"

"Stop it!" Marlena all but screeched, eyes wild and nearly hysterical. "Grandchildren…arms…who…who are you? You aren't my Adam! Give me back my son! Give me back my son!" She charged before anyone realized she was moving, colliding with Adam and nearly knocking him flat. She began beating upon his chest and head with full and lethal intent; these weren't mere slaps but full-on punches that could easily have broken boards of ashroot wood, and Adam was hard pressed to fend them off.

Randor and Duncan were so caught off-guard they only dimly realized what was happening. Teela bit her lip, uncharacteristically indecisive; she was not as practiced in nonlethal combat as in her youth, and had no desire to cripple or kill the Queen. Adam understood this perfectly and was silently relieved at her restraint, even if it did mean he had to deal with a hysterical mother (literally) single-handed.

Adam himself was out of practice with subduing rather than crippling, and so had to endure nearly a full minute of this before he could think of an adequate response. Said response came down to simply waiting until she tired a hair, her punches becoming slightly sloppy enough that he could dodge at the right moment, leaving his mother stumbling forward and thus give him the chance to get around behind her and wrap his arm around her torso. This effectively pinned her arms to her sides, giving him space enough to throw a look at Teela.

The younger woman sprang forward, fingers shooting out in a blur and catching the still-screeching Queen's temple with a glancing blow. The effect was instaneous: Marlena's eyes dimming and limbs going limp. She didn't slip into unconsciousness – Teela was too out of practice with that particular technique to risk it – but she was rendered insensate enough that Adam could hand her over to his father.

Nothing further was said between them; what was there to say? The look exchanged between father and son - two parts confusion and one part fear - said more than enough.

* * *

_**De Author Seez:**__That's it for the moment. I hope you'll overlook how rough this is and maybe drop a note or three, if only to tell me its absolute rubbish and get back to my regular stuff. Don't worry; the story is all plotted out, at least in my head. It'll be a bit of work to get it all out. Hope you'll stay with me for it._

_Thanks for reading. See you sooner (or later, whichever comes first)._


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